It had to happen the night of his wedding, he supposed. When it came to Finn, nothing went right. He was stuck in Lima with his step-dad's garage, while all his friends went out and fulfilled their goals. But, it was for Quinn, and he loved her. Even if their situation wasn't exactly how he wanted it, Quinn was happy with her real-estate agency and he could act pleased about co-owning the family business.

But, you know, life disappoints everybody. However, a serial killer does not always attack the day of your wedding.

Especially not a serial killer who only attacks gays. Suddenly, Blaine and Kurt, his step-brother-in-law and step-brother, respectively, were being escorted out of the reception for their own safety, and people were whispering.

The serial killer had been around for the past six years, as far as Finn knew. And Quinn claimed that wasn't very far. Always, always, the victims were gay, were found drowning in a pool with a vital part of their genitalia removed. No fingerprints, no DNA, no anything.

Ten bodies had been found, and there was always the chance of more.

It scared the hell out of Finn's family, what with Kurt's sexuality. He'd always been bullied as a kid, and recently he and his partner, Blaine had been on the harsh end of homophobic attacks. They were active participants in the LGBT rights movement, and that put them at all the more risks.

In theory, the serial killer only killed the out and proud. However, two victims hadn't even come out. Including Dave Karofsky - the first victim. Officials had believed that was a one time incident, and only after a string of similar murders had occurred they looked into Karofsky's sexuality. His Internet history and documents proved that Dave was the first victim. He had only been nineteen and was well on his way to becoming one of the greatest hockey players in history.

That was the biggest shame in Dave's death, Finn believed. In a close second, it was terrible that Dave hadn't ever apologized to Kurt.

But enough depression - he was supposed to be having the best night of his life. Quinn smiled at him with sweetness he hadn't seen since they first started dating, back in their Freshmen year of high school. And Finn brightened, because even if there were sickos out there, he was safe with family, old and new.


Quinn remembered back to when she thought her wedding night would be her first time. No, back then she was absolutely certain of the fact that she was going to turn up, white and pure and virginal. But, times change. Her daughter was proof enough of that. But, if you did inspect Quinn's rap sheet, you would find that all of her briefs flings with premarital sex occurred while she was intoxicated.

She did a lot of regretful things under intoxication. And she remembered every single one of them.

But she was sober as she ever was tonight, and she planned to make it a good night, even if there had just been a murder in the next town over. It was a homophobic attack, and it's not like those don't happen every other day. Goodness, they might even happen to her now, since she was married into a gay family.

That was a problem she'd deal with another day, though.

Right now, she was going to have lovely, righteous sex with her husband that the Good Lord approved of now. And hopefully, they'd start a nice, sin-free life like she had planned out originally, even if the gay brothers-in-law were something she hadn't expected.

Leroy and Hiram Berry had moved out of Lima, Ohio soon after their daughter took Broadway by storm. Their daughter provided them with a beautiful apartment located near to D.C., so they could lobby for their rights with much more effectiveness. However, that apartment was all they had left of her now. She didn't return their phone calls, she didn't come to visit, she didn't even bother to send them playbills of her shows, like she had done so proudly in her first years on Broadway.

They guessed after a few Tonys, their daughter didn't want to be affiliated with them anymore. So, they kept their space. Rachel Barbra Berry was a grown woman, after all. Hovering around her would only make her want to get away more. Still, they kept tabs on her, and when critics stopped raving about her, they started to get worried.

Then the police showed up looking for their daughter. The cops questioned, "Why didn't you file a missing persons report months ago?"

And the couple just wished they had.

Two weeks after the police first started looking, they found her. Or, at least, what they assumed was her. The stone found floating in the Ohio River said Rachel Berry, and had dates etched in. The date of birth was true, as was the date of final sighting. The earth gave no clues, but ashes were found inside the stone – it had been hollowed out. And, Rachel's star necklace was found mingling among all of the ash.

Finn had given her that necklace, all those years ago.

She hadn't ever stopped wearing it.

Finn, of course, was on his honeymoon. He didn't really want to be charged with murder. However, his alibis checked out, as did Quinn Hudson's. However, too much fact came out.

"You went to one of her shows?" Finn's new wife hissed, as they walked out of the station. "You told me you'd never see her again. Or think about her, at all!"

Finn defended himself, more afraid than he had been in the interrogation room, "Kurt invited me – I'm sorry, Quinn. Blaine wasn't able to make it, and he had tickets. I didn't tell you, because I knew you'd be mad at me." The show had been beautiful – mainly because of Rachel. She was more talented than anyone in Lima had ever been able to tell, and he was so happy for her. So, he and Kurt went to her apartment and congratulated her, there was nothing wrong with that. If Kurt had left them after a few hours, there was nothing to it, right?

If they had kissed, if they had loved – there was nothing wrong with it.

But he was back in Ohio the week she went missing, working on cars, when he wanted to be singing with Rachel like they used to. Quinn didn't sing at all, except in church. Her voice was soft, then, not big and bold and beautiful like Rachel's. But it wasn't right to compare the two women he loved. Not when one of them was dead, and one was his wife.

The serial killer had been quiet for over a year.

But that didn't mean people weren't dying.

People die every day.

But not like this, Jesse St. James knew. He was backed against the wall with adrenaline running through him like he could actually use it. Everyone is going to die, and he thought his end would come from alcohol poisoning or a tragic stage accident. Either way, it would be tragic and he would be far too young, much like his darling Rachel.

The police had given up on finding her murderer, but Jesse hadn't. Even if they hadn't talked since high school, even if she had gone on to be bigger and brighter than he would ever be, he still loved her. Her shows were phenomenal – he had gone to all of them. If that made him a stalker, so be it.

But he was going to find out who killed his shining star, even if it put him at risk.

And it had.

"You?" Jesse St. James laughed, dramatic to the very end, "You killed Rachel?"

The murderer laughed, "It's what she deserved for trying to get with my husband."

Rachel loved Jesse – he knew that, the world knew that. "She wouldn't do that. You killed the wrong girl!"

"You're pathetic, St. James. I normally don't kill pathetic inch worms, but you know now. You're going to suffer the same fate as her. Maybe you'll end up in the same room, if they find you. You'd love that, you'd find that romantic, right? But I promise they won't find you. Who is going to report you missing? You haven't got a friend in the world."

"You killed my only friend," Jesse claims, with a pathetic whine in his voice.

"Hush, St. James." The murderer whispers, and stabs him through the heart.

People hear him scream, but nobody cares. He's probably just acting out a murder mystery, that pathetic sot. And in the middle of the night? Nobody sees the murderer walk out of the apartment door with a body in their arms and drive back home.

A week after Jesse was murdered, a paleontologist finds her husband floating in their pool, completely naked, and his penis chopped off.

But that's the end of that string of murders. Eleven of them, and they never happen again. The case grows old, and people simply forget about the serial killer. He's not Jack the Ripper, and he won't go down in History. It's just some sick homophobic creep who has a knack for knowing whether a married man is closeted or not.

Nobody wants to remember that.

Finn and Kurt are having a dinner, two brothers. Their spouses talk amiably, and but the brothers are quiet. "We have an announcement." Kurt says, "Blaine and I."

"Do tell," Quinn says, smiling with a poison reserved only for sinners.

"We're adopting."

Quinn smiles, because it's great that these two men get to raise a child. Finn looks at his wife, whose smile is painted on and forced and all sorts of fake. But Blaine and Kurt are just too happy, they don't see it.

Later that night, Quinn thinks about the baby in her belly and what he or she would think about her two uncles. Would it find it unnatural as Quinn did? Or would she or he accept it as a part of life, an acceptable choice? She prayed that her child isn't as hypocritical as Quinn is, who thinks about Rachel Berry far too much. Naked, doing sinful things with her and Quinn's body, together, as they intertwine to become one, large grand sin. She wishes she weren't like this, but she wishes Rachel was alive as well. Being with Finn is the closet she can get to being with Rachel.

And then she thinks about her daughter, who knew Rachel as a sister and never knew Quinn at all. And Quinn knows her life is terrible and awful and cries, hoping Finn doesn't wake up.

Kurt and Blaine are sitting in bed.

"We're going to have to stop these murders when the baby comes." Blaine says, playing with his husband's hair.

Kurt sighs, "I already have. Jesse was my last one, I promise. You?"

"The closet case who felt you up at the convention last year."

Shivering, Kurt curls closer to his husband, "I'm going to miss it. You're so hot when you kill."

"You too," Blaine breathes, and they think.

"One more?" They say at the same time, even though they don't know who to go for.

"We'll do it together, but not right now. When the baby's out of the house. That way we can cause a commotion." Kurt laughs. "Can you imagine the headlines? We'll do it your way, because the people love it the best. And I find it so... damn... hot." In between words, he rolls closer to his husband.

Finn wasn't exactly happy with the work he did, but it was work. He loved his children, he loved his wife, and they loved him. He would sing little Rochelle and Timothy lullabies, and they would sing along. Quinn would tease him about trying to start a show choir while the kids were still young, and he would tease her about her no longer singing, not even in church.

He would think about Rachel some nights, but people move on. And so did he.